Aleph, the Chaldean; or, the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria

by E. F. Burr

“Would the chief oblige him by writing as much on the tablets over his own signature?”

Yes—the chief would do that; and did it.

Cimon bowed again and withdrew.

On his way out he saw Malus entering. The two men seemed to recognize each other at the same moment. Instantly there flashed into the look of each something that told the other that the encounter was not pleasant. On the part of the Greek the flash was one that gave new erectness to his form and new gravity to his features: on the part of the Jew it was a flash of suspicion and alarm that for an instant expanded his eyes and perceptibly checked his movement. For an instant only. Then came a new woodenness into his face, and he seemed to retreat still further behind those small, half-closed eyes which yet lost nothing of their watchful expression. So on they came toward each other—the Greek unconsciously increasing the dignity and firmness of his tread, and keeping his eyes fixed on the approaching face as if bent on improving to the utmost an unwelcome opportunity for reading on that hard page whatever might be read. So they met and passed. Cimon never looked behind him. Had he done so he would have seen Malus standing at the door of the office just left and looking after him.

But the Greek did not need to see this. That steady look into the face of Malus, though brief, was enough to assure him that the suspicions of the man were all ablaze, and that he would not rest till he had found out whatever the custom-house chief could tell him. And probably he would be successful in suppressing any further light from that quarter. Cimon was thankful, however, that he had secured as much as he had. He trusted that it would be sufficient—perhaps it could be used to compel more.

He was now more than ever impressed with the necessity of hastening whatever further inquiries he had to make. It was still high day—why not proceed at once to the dealers in eastern goods whose addresses he had jotted down at the khan, and try to find out what had been the selling prices of eastern goods for as many years as possible? Why not even improve the opportunity of Malus’ absence from his warehouse to go there and see what would be said by the subordinates when not overlooked by the master? As soon as the idea suggested itself, he accepted it. He would go to Nos. 110, 111, 112 Emporium Street first of all.

Accordingly, as soon as he had passed through the Gate of the Moon, turning leftward into the Greek quarter to lessen the chances of recognition, he proceeded northward till he thought he might be opposite to the warehouse of Malus, and then struck eastward into Emporium Street again. His venture was successful. Before him stood the establishment he was seeking. As soon as he presented himself at the door he was politely saluted by a young man and invited to enter. What could he do for my lord?

My lord wished to be conducted to the chief man in charge of the department of eastern goods.

“Certainly, it would be done with the greatest pleasure. Would my lord be pleased to follow?”

This following took Cimon through a large part of the establishment. He could well believe it to be the largest warehouse in Alexandria. It was really an immense bazaar. One could find there almost anything that was bought and sold in the Roman world—from the toys of infants up to the furnishings of a royal palace, and even of a royal person. Messengers were hurrying about, crowds were coming and going, salesmen were crying out and displaying their goods from hundreds of stalls. It was a tempest of assault on the pouches of visitors. And many were evidently being captured.